


Quiet

by LittleMissSweetgrass



Series: Giant Alien Robots Can Get Sick? [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 17:33:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissSweetgrass/pseuds/LittleMissSweetgrass
Summary: Soundwave gets a virus and suddenly its very loud





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> Ive been listening to "Quite" from the Matilda The Musical soundtrack and i wanted to try my hand at writing again, but only really have the energy for a drabble
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GDVaa3z8jHw heres the song if you want to listen to it
> 
> As always, this work isn't beta'd so if you find an error please hit me up with a correction thanks!

_Noise_. No matter what he tried to focus on, the noise would always breakthrough his concentration and it was getting louder by the second.

Normally Soundwave had an exceptional grasp on his outlier ability. He was able to take everything he hears and turn it into quite white noise in the back of his processor, and has programs in place to ping him when certain bots said certain words of interest. Normally, Soundwave appreciated his ability, having been able to master it and use his exceptional hearing to be a great benefit to the Deception cause, and to instil fear and paranoia into both sides of the war, leaving him to be a force to be reckoned with.

But not today.

Today, a virus was rampaging through the station, causing minor but persistent and annoying glitches throughout the crew and despite his immense amount of fire walls and anti-virus protection, it slipped through his defences. He suspected Rumble was the culprit, as the cassette was bemoaning about over-heating and his vocalizer glitching every fifth word to the sympathy of none of his fellow cassettes.

The virus was frustrating, making his plating warm and leaving his processor with a lag that had Sky-Byte firmly tell him that he was going to take over the other bots duties, so please just have a cube of med-grade, relax, and let his anti-virus do its job- at least until someone made a cure.

If it was just these symptoms it would be a mild inconvenience and something to work though, but it was effecting the programming he had put in place to filter out the input from his audials. 

So everything was loud, incredibly so. He could hear every intake of breath from everybot on board, every gear grinding, all the echoing clangs of every pede-steps, every whispered whimper, every bellowing argument. All of it felt like being struck to the helm by Devastator’s fist, over and over and over until all Soundwave could do is lock himself up in his room curled into a tight ball with his servos over his audials as if that could help keep out the _noise_.

It was almost as if the _noise_ was trying to become some awful monster of the white noise he was used to. All the voices clambering onto of each other, screaming and wailing in his audials, all trying to talk over each other until he was left to be assaulted by this loud wall of screaming _everything_. He could barely differentiate the sounds from one another, they were too jumbled too loud, too much. He curled into himself even further, instinctively trying to block the sounds out, the grinding of his own metal body and hiss of air escaping his stressed vents not even processing as coming from him, just more sounds added to the roaring wall.

He couldn’t focus on anything, his processor trying its hardest to categorize sounds but there was too much input, to much data to filter, too much noise. He could feel his cassettes worry pressing at his spark through their bond, but he couldn't even focus on that to ground him, it was just more noise, a constant thrumming of panicking sparks.

There was a hiss of a door opening, a voice calling his name, “Soundwave,” before it was lost into the deafening hum of all the other sounds his overwhelmed processor was trying to organize. The voice was important, something he needed to remember but he couldn’t focus on _why_ because there was a mech floors down that needed to oil his joints, and someone down the hall got dust in their vents and was sent into a coughing fit, but the shuffling of small pedes outside his habsuite sounded like someone was shoving metal into a grinder and-

There was a touch on his arm, and all at once everything stilled. Someone was touching his arm, he could feel the cool servo on his warm plating and it was the wall had burst like a dam. Quiet, not total silence, but enough to make him sag with relief.

He onlined his optics (when had he offlined them?) and stared at that servo. It was like a bubble had been created, and all of a sudden everything, every sound had become background to the soft slide of metal on metal, the whisper of mechanics whirling as those digits flexed, almost flinching at the overheated surface they were placed on. His optics whirled as they trailed the swath of green from those digits, up the arm they were connected to and the gentle thrum of a sparkpulse to the brilliantly blue visor that stared down at him with a worried glint.

“Soundwave….” the word was nothing more than a exhaled vent, but it blocked out every other input in his audials, as if they wanted to hear nothing but that sweet and concerned sound again.

The blue mech unfurled, opening his arms, a silent plea that was quickly met. Those red digits never left his plating, merely shifting and gliding across his arm until they ended entwined within his own. He gave a soft sigh and offlined his optics again as a cool body rested against his front. And all he could hear was the gentle thrumming of that steady sparkpulse and gentle creaking of metal as Cosmos settled against him, giving a little sigh of his own. 

They sat like that for a while, enough time for his antivirus to finally destroy that pesky virus, and for his systems to all go back into working order. The time lapse was lost to Soundwave, as all he cared for was focusing on the slow, gentle vents and the thrumming spark of the mech that fell asleep in his arms.


End file.
